Quite the contrary
by seinooo.kcvii
Summary: You are barging into the lives of the two people that bonded since their gaze met each other. Since the beginning. Love and hate stay on the same wavelength though their strength waver.


Summary: You are barging into the lives of the two people that bonded since their gaze met each other. Since the beginning. Love and hate stay on the same wavelength though their strength waver.

Disclaimer: I do remember owning nothing. I wish the opposite, though.

This sporadic CloTi, I present to thee. AU.

* * *

You were currently exploring the storeroom that never seemed to be opened ever since you could remember. Upon stepping inside, you began rummaging to whatever held your interest. An odd gadget, a disassembled music box, worn-out gloves, a deceased lizard with god knows where the maggots were now, and everything was covered in dusts. Except for a long, tall object wrapped in a simple and clean white cloth. It was not even dusty.

Now why wasn't it dirtied?

You clenched the sides of that item and stared hard. Curious, you pulled it out, and there gleamed a beautiful blade made by an unnamed maker. It had an air of calmness and superiority, and you couldn't help but to touch it, swing it even. User friendly, you thought. It wasn't heavy, it wasn't light. _Just perfect._

The cloth dropped to the floor and there was a thump on the floor. You glanced at it, and began to swim your hands at the fabric to take out…

…a thick, brown book. It looked old.

The book was flipped open and the carved golden words greeted you with a wistful looking…

"…I love you Tifa Lockhart. My one and only."

…in an elegant calligraphic style. The name 'Tifa Lockhart' was written in a perfect ambigram. You widened your eyes, staring at that stunningly familiar name. It's her, you thought. That book, in that godforsaken storeroom, immediately drew you in. That's her name. Why was it there? Carefully you lifted an almost crumbly page and started reading it.

-- -- --

Cloud watched her tears drip and Tifa sobbed uncontrollably in despair. Where did he go wrong? What was wrong with him? Those, he asked himself in a silent breath.

No. No, he thought. It was his choice. He chose this.

That sight before him clawed his insides, burned him, tormenting him to make him wrap her securely in his arms. Cloud stopped halfway, realization hitting him. He pulled back his outstretched hand and turned away from her. He left her with warm moisture dripping down from the corner of his eyes.

As their distance increased, Tifa was still on her spot, crying out his name to make him stop.

"I hate you. So leave me alone," he hissed, trying to hide his quavering voice. He said it, the words he never wanted to.

"Cloud…" Oh, how he loved the way she called his name—even in the most painful way. _A futile attempt, Tifa._

He repeated inside his head everything he felt for her over and over again.

_I love you. I love you. I love you._

He had replayed everything in his mind. From the time he met her, to the time they had played together, growing up and attending school, and now. She had _never_ left his side, even now. He was thankful for that. Even now. Cloud played with the gold band around his finger but never took it off.

They were bonded by invisible threads of love.

"I…hate you, …Cloud Strife." He heard that. _Yes, you should forget about me._

-- -- --

"How bitter", you said out loud. You didn't get it yet, though. That was one of the latest entries. You flipped back to a much more random page. Possibly, to get what that entry was about.

-- -- --

They were now 20. She was beautiful. They graduated together. She was beautiful. Cloud couldn't care less. She always gazed at him; penetrating his very soul and making him suffocate. She smiled in that very wildly innocent smile of hers, making him simply weak inside—as always.

"Cloud, for the Graduation Night… I now know what I want," she stated simply.

He nodded and shrugged nonchalantly, keeping his cool. "Your wish is my command," he replied.

Dinner was absolutely perfect. The committee had done a wonderful job setting up everything. He get to see her clad in her very best, and he was sure that was only for him. And tonight, one of his wish would be fulfilled—high probability hers, too.

To be hers. To make her his.

-- -- --

You flipped a page. You saw her and him in a group photo with all their friends, everyone in a funny pose. You couldn't help but to grin. Lifting the picture, you found another photo. Of her sleeping soundly. A sense of pride filled you up. She was _yours_, after all. …Wait, topless?

You checked the current page. Oh, you thought. They were making out. The last line was,

_I lost my virginity to Tifa that night._

Oh well, skip that.

-- -- --

"Now would the honored top newcomer come on stage and deliver a speech?" the principal asked.

"Feh," Cloud scoffed. If he had worked harder, he would probably get number one. _You're down here because you're number two. Loser._

Light steps pattered on the stage. Cloud stared at her. Tifa Lockhart was the top student.

She delivered her speech in an elegant way…until she found his gaze. She stopped and glared. "Striiife!" she yelled suddenly, making everyone clamp their ears shut. "You jerk!"

…followed by a long string of curse word that made the dean—Cid Highwind—he remembered, grinning in mirth at her, like a proud father of all sorts.

"If you think you can leave me alone in that bloody geeky school like that, then you're wrong!" she said, seething. "I'll break all your bones and feed you to the wolves, I swear!"

The newbie students blinked in shock and awe. _Where had the sweet looking student exemplary gone to?_

"Bad example, Lockhart," Sephiroth said, snickering, coming from behind the stage. He was the Head Student in that college, someone who all of the school body looked up to. Someone Cloud wanted to be like someday.

"Like I care," Tifa replied as she stuck her tongue out at him. Genesis beside him snickered at his friend's surprised face. "Alright, _Cloud_. I'm going to get you."

For the whole time, Cloud couldn't stop his face from going red in embarrassment. _I don't know her, I don't know her, I don't know her…_ He chanted in his head, avoiding the gazes of the people around him.

-- -- --

Poor guy, you thought. You flipped to an older date and began reading it in full concentration.

-- -- --

A young Tifa Lockhart was visiting Cloud in the hospital.

"Cloud? Are you awake?" she asked him, peering from the doorway. He shot his head up from the book he was currently reading. Like he was reading in the first place. He was waiting in anticipation for her arrival.

"I'm up." Tifa's eyes lit up magnitudes brighter.

"Great, let's go play outside together!"

She didn't wait for his sign of approval as she yanked him out of the bed and pulled him out of the dreadful white room, both whizzing past nurses and doctors.

Yes, they were outside. They played at their well-liked spot. The fountain.

"Say Cloud, do you like me?"

"Sure, why would I hate you?"

"No, I mean like-like-like times 94527!" Cloud gaped at her but then returned her cheerful grin with his (possibly more) tender smile.

"Of course."

"Then promise me you will marry me in the future."

His quiet, shy nature was a total clash with her devil-may-care attitude. Still, that never stopped them from becoming friends at first and attachment later and eventual love as time went by.

"…Okay."

The two linked their pinkies, chortling at each other.

"Since you have agreed, I want my kiss." Cloud couldn't object. He couldn't reply either. He stood there, stammering.

"But, Teef, I—" He was cut off by a simple and innocent kiss on his lips, that was enough to make his face turn red.

-- -- --

Wow, she's proposing him? Must be a leap year at that time, you thought, chuckling at the book. Now where's the cause of the sadness earlier… You scanned the page, continuing to read it, not missing the last sentence,

_Tifa got my first kiss. She said it was her first one, too._

-- -- --

Cloud had just gotten a new thick book for him to write (doodle and make squiggles) on. At first he wasn't sure what to write down. He started introducing himself in it, as expected from an eleven-year-old.

Tifa entered, wondering what could make him so quiet. She focused onto the book in his lap.

"Hi," she greeted him cheerily, though her eyes glimmered in curiosity.

"Hey. I'm making an introduction."

"I want to write too, can I?" She gave him her best pleading looks.

…And he was such a sucker for those.

"Okay."

She ended up doodling chocobos, moogles and tonberries all over a clean page. And lots of stickman too. Cloud sighed, half exasperated, though. Having to watch her cheerful face was enough for him. He couldn't ask for more at that time. The entry for that day would have to wait.

Cloud did write his introduction after that.

-- -- --

Ah-ha. Here is the cause. You read the very first page intently.

_My name is Cloud Strife. I was sick ever since I was aware of my surroundings. At first, I never give a damn about it, letting the doctors poke needles and tube into me. My life was lonely. The people are friendly, though. But all I needed was a companion._

_Lifestream must have heard my wish, though. Tifa Lockhart is the most amazing person I ever met. She was beautiful. I was afraid to talk to her at first, but all because of a vase of flowers, we started hanging out._

_Yesterday, I heard her father (my doctor) talk to another doctor. He said I couldn't live up to 20. Retards. Even if that's true, don't talk about it in front of me. Think of the patient's feelings, for once. He said he won't tell Tifa, though._

_The moment they left, I started to wonder. If Tifa knew this, what would she do?_

_She'll be heartbroken._

_Or maybe she'll chop off my hair to keep as a memento. Hells no. I don't wanna be bald._

So he was sick, you noted. You spotted a small folded paper on the very last page. You opened it up in curiosity. It was a letter, as you judged from the structure.

_For Tifa Lockhart._

It was sort of neatly written and the handwriting was fairly same to the latest entry.

-- -- --

_Tifa._

_All the time, I have worked hard to bring a smile to grace your features. I succeeded, mostly. I know you're not aware about it, but my days are numbered. I did fulfill our promise after graduation. I always want you to be happy, which is why I left. You don't need a useless man like me. You won't need a sickly man. You won't need me. I will only bring you sorrow._

_I thought you would be better of without me._

_I never mean what I said earlier._

_I love you._

The final words had the ink blotched, an evidence the writer was crying. You couldn't help but to feel your heart ache. Empathy, you call that. This time, you decided to read the whole thing.

-- -- --

The first page had a picture attached—of the owner himself, Cloud Strife, and her, Tifa Lockhart. They were smiling together. They were happy together. They were…together. You had traveled their past. Although you felt this was kind of an indirect eavesdropping, you did read it, you explored his own little world. It was his—their lives. And the sword? It was his, something she had bought him for his twentieth birthday.

You had the right to know because…

"No more," you whispered to yourself. You brought the two treasures with you and kicked the door open. She was there, startled when she saw you emerge from the storeroom.

"Denzel? What are you—" She frowned at what you held in both hands but then, her frown disappeared and a bitter smile formed. "You…read all of it, huh?"

"Yes, mom," you answered quietly. You didn't know your quiet attitude was just like him. She looked at you expectantly.

"What do you think? Do you still hate your dad? For leaving us alone?"

You winced. You had always gotten really angry for not seeing your dad, not knowing him, but just staring at pictures she brought. You paused for a moment. "…No. Not anymore. I have found my dad in here." You raised the journal, grinning sheepishly. Her tears dripped down and she smiled at you. "He was alive here," you added, raising a hand onto your chest, "and here."

"Yes, he is in our hearts. I never did stop loving him." She brought you to her warm embrace. "You're crying, Denzel."

"Look who's talking." You both chuckled in each other's arms.

_You had the right to know because…_

…You are _Denzel Lockhart Strife_. You vowed silently that you would never question why you are a Strife. You have his blood in you. As a son, you would work hard to live up to his name, keeping him alive in memories, grasping further than what he should expect from you if he were present.

Like your mother who raised you single-handedly, proud of whom you are, of how you turn out to be. Your father's son.

The sword should be put in a brighter place, you thought silently.

He wouldn't be forgotten. Never.

-- -- --

That was the tale of the two beloved. And Denzel's too, learning to know the man who could've been his father. They were the Strifes, moving on but never forgetting the existence of a certain chocobo-haired man—for he was loved, not hated.


End file.
